


Tightrope of Time

by orionstarlight



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Comfort, Dinner, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of Taylor Swift, Promises, Tea, i sobbed through most of this, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: You start walking away. “Who taught you Ko?” You turn your head, your body still facing the way home.“Someone who thought it’d be worth it. Clearly, if there are people like you around to swoop in and save me, I have no use for it,” you say. There’s a small smirk on his face at the way you stand your ground.----You meet Kite in an alley as a stranger. Is that all he'll ever be?
Relationships: Kaito | Kite/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. Hoax

**Author's Note:**

> i am just. i watched episode 85 not too long ago and i've been broken ever since, so i wrote this for both myself and my friend who absolutely adores him.

_Don't want no other shade of blue_   
_But you_   
_No other sadness in the world would do_

_**Hoax** , _Taylor Swift

* * *

These late nights at the library were going to kill you. Your book bag weighs at least ten tonnes, dragging you down into the ground with each step you take. You were going to kill your professor for not approving your thesis idea, even if those older than you had said it would stand. What the hell did he have against you?

02:34 AM. No, no way, you don’t have the ability to focus anymore. You pick up your things despite the strain it takes on your arms and start making your way home, or what you can call home anyway.

Yorknew City isn’t exactly a place you want to be in forever, but if you want a job, you need a degree, and if you want a degree, you need to spend way too much time with your nose stuck in a book. Actually, make that fifteen books, all at once.

You’re ten minutes away from a nice hot bath that you can melt into. You can feel the water already wrapping around you, lulling you into a dream of serenity. Okay, you’ve decided: you’re giving yourself a sick day tomorrow.

“How about a ride home?”

You tense, daring not to turn at the sound coming from the alley. A stone expression graces your face as you walk on, tightening your grip on your bag. There’s nothing of value there except a notebook of over thirty thesis ideas, and if you lost that, you don’t think your professor would be very forgiving.

“Now come on, I’m just being nice. Let a man help you out,” he says, thinking he has the permission to touch you.

You grab the wrist of the hand that has made a home on your body. Does he really believe he can take you on? “You’re no man,” you spit.

The anger in his eyes is apparent at your refusal. His fist goes for your face but you manage to use Ko to shield yourself where he’s going to make contact, protecting yourself and coming off completely unscathed. _Man Bisky is good at what she does._

The ricochet he receives has him on the floor, rolling away from you. He stands up almost immediately, though, gunning for you at full speed, and you have less than a few seconds to decide how you’re going to take the offensive from him.

But the impact never comes, something pulling him away by the back of the neck and into the nearest wall, immobilising him completely. You’re stunned at the amount of power the person who came to your unnecessary aid possesses.

“I believe the lady doesn’t need any help.” He looks at you. “Sorry about taking your win.”

His eyes, though slightly hidden by his cap, reflect the moon, and you find yourself staring into them for slightly longer than you should. They’re like two precious gems full of mystery, simply begging you to spend all night deciphering their secrets.

“I- No, it’s okay. Thanks.”

Apart from the people who want to kill you around here at night, there are those who survey the city from rooftops to keep people out of harm’s way, and you gather he’s one of the latter. At least, you really hope he is. 

You start walking away. “Who taught you Ko?” You turn your head, your body still facing the way home.

“Someone who thought it’d be worth it. Clearly, if there are people like you around to swoop in and save me, I have no use for it,” you say. There’s a small smirk on his face at the way you stand your ground.

You scrutinise him with your gaze, sniffing out his aura. Deadly, powerful, but he uses it for good. Animal lover. He’s a Conjurer, if you remember correctly, a Pro Hunter that’s undergone some incredible training, someone that would be hard to compete with on the battlefield. You’re glad he’s on your side for now.

“Feel free to follow me home. I’ll fix you a drink.”

The good in him was relatively easy to sniff out after you broke through all his barriers, so, you’re being nice. He did save your life, after all, even if you hadn’t asked him to. The least you could do is repay the favour.

You take your keys out and unlock the main door, waiting for him to appear in the street. He doesn’t, so you assume that he’ll come along a little later, and you continue ascending the stairs to the top floor until you reach the little attic-like space you’re renting out, locking the door behind you.

Dropping your bag on the kitchen table you make your say to your bedroom, climbing onto the ledge of your window and up onto the roof that’s slanted in a way that lets you sit on it. You turn your head, looking at him, watching him watch the city.

“Do you drink tea?” He nods. “Window’s open.”

You climb back inside, thinking about how a man of few words like him gets by. Peculiar thing to do, making tea for a man you don’t know at three in the morning, but your life has been full of peculiarities for as long as you can remember.

His footsteps make no sound on your floor. He’s like a cat, this man, and the thought makes you chuckle under your breath. “My Master’s name was Bisky, but someone else helped me unlock my Nen in the first place. Who, I really can’t say. It wouldn’t be fair to reveal their identity.”

You drum your fingers on the counter, waiting for the tea to spread from the teabags. A few summers with the Zoldycks meant you also got better at keeping secrets for them, not just using their kids as target practise.

You pass him one of the mugs, leaning back against the counter. 

“Thank you for being there tonight. I didn’t feel like fighting.”

“But you were prepared to. You have quite grand capabilities, don’t you?” You look down into the hibiscus infused water. Being prepared to fight isn’t something you even have to think about these days, not after years of having it imprinted into your brain that only a coward runs. Any fight can be turned, you just have to wait it out.

“At every corner there’s always someone that believes they can turn the tables on you, because they have the element of surprise. If you take that element from them, you can guarantee yourself a win without overpursuing. When you’re prepared, there’s nothing for them to surprise you with.” 

“And your Master agreed with you when you told them that?” He’s smiling since he already knows the answer, but still he’s keeping his distance.

“Oh, God no. She was desperate to make me unlearn half the things I’d been taught. Still, old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Those sound much like the habits of an assassin.” Your eyes sparkle. That obvious? Illumi would kill you.

You take a sip. “I haven’t killed anyone recently, if you’re worried. And I certainly have no intention of killing you.”

Sounds like a lie, right? Well, it’s not. You can’t lie to someone after you’ve used your abilities on them. To learn the truth about someone, you must give something back in return, such is the nature of your Nen. Rules must be set in place if you want to use it to its full potential.

“What’s your Nen type?”

“Specialist. You don’t have to tell me yours. I already know.”

He’s probably wondering how it’s possible for someone to read him so easily, but he’s wrong. It wasn’t easy to read him at all, not with the amount of aura you had to shift through to get to the very centre.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met, is it?”

“Not exactly. A couple of years ago, you saved a kid from a foxbear because he was stupid enough to wander around a Snakebeech Forest at the wrong time of year. You swooped in before I could, but you’ve come far since then. 

“I do, however, have one question. If you knew I was there, why didn’t you look in my direction? Why didn’t you ask what I was doing there in the first place?”

He places the mug down on your table, next to the books spilling out of your bag. He takes a glance at the title of the first book he picks up, slender fingers tracing the lettering. He doesn’t seem thrown off by _Poisons Without Cures_ , which is more than you can say for half of your class.

“You seemed capable of handling yourself. I didn’t want to intrude on what was clearly an information gathering trip. It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re working.”

“Kite, right? What’s a Hunter of your class doing in a city?”

“Waiting for an old friend. Doubtful that he’ll show up though.”

His eyes are covered in a layer of grey and you can’t resist taking a peek inside his aura again. Despite the tough exterior, you can see that he’s losing hope about seeing that old friend, having been disappointed many times before.

“He probably won’t. You’re wasting time waiting for him when someone elsewhere clearly needs you.” You open one of the cabinets in the kitchen, taking out a small notebook. You turn to the page with his number before passing it to him. “If you’re hellbent on finding him, use this. Tell him an old friend sent you his way.”

Illumi will charge you for it later in whatever way he sees fit, but helping out a guy that’s hanging onto a very thin thread of hope is the least you can do.

“Assassin?”

“Works as a tracker too. I’m guessing your friend is the elusive type?”

“Has been for a long time. Give him a call.” You walk to the bathroom, stopping in front of the door. “Do you need a bed for the night?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at you with those eyes hidden by his cap. You can tell he’s too proud to ask for one, or too admit that he probably hasn’t slept in one for a couple of weeks now. 

“I’m gonna take a shower. Bedroom’s all yours if you need it.”

You sleep on the sofa most nights anyway, either passing out from tiredness or just not being able to fall asleep given how soft your mattress is. The harder the surface, the better for your back, and it also means you can pretty much fall asleep anywhere now.

The water gets rid of the tension you’ve been harbouring in your muscles, clearing your mind in the process. If he hadn’t been there tonight, you would have made an even bigger mess than him, and it wouldn’t take long before someone was looking for you, hunting you to find out how you did what you did. Those who hunt Nen users are people even you have difficulty avoiding.

When you come out of the bathroom, you see him sitting on your sofa, head resting on clasped hands. He’s worried like there’s a timer that’s about to run out, and you wish you were capable of making it better for him.

You take a seat and lift the cap off his head, asking him to look at you without words. “People in this world are always finding each other. There’s no reason you two should be any different.”

“I’m chasing after a ghost.”

Life has kicked him down multiple times, and he’s still standing, so there’s no reason for him to be losing hope; the moment he does, he’s putting himself in danger. Even when we’re completely oblivious to it, that hope keeps us going for longer than anything else.

“But you’re still chasing. That’s more than most of us can say.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, hoping it will pass on at least a fragment of your own will onto him. Saving him from himself is something you’re determined to do.


	2. Mirrorball

_I'll show you every version of yourself tonight_   
_I'll get you out on the floor_

_**Mirrorball**_ , Taylor Swift

* * *

“How’s university?”

“Dropped out. How was your trip?” you ask back.

“You didn’t tell me your friend was a Zoldyck. I nearly killed him.”

“So he said. Man did he take that out on me later. I was cleaning blood out of my hair for at least a week after.” 

He removes his cloak, sitting down beside you on the riverbank. The sun shines at your closed eyes, your head resting against the soft grass. Sol really is a wonderful place to relieve the stress.

“How many?” he asks.

You sigh, opening your eyes and looking at him. “Twenty-two. Took me half the night, too, since they wouldn’t cooperate.”

“A steep price.”

You furrow your brows. For Illumi? No, you wouldn’t say it was steep at all. You were surprised he didn’t have you doing his dirty work for at least a week when he gave you the objective. He did make you work with his clown friend, though, and you nearly strangled him before the job even started.

“If you view lives as having worth, then yes, I suppose so,” you find yourself replying, nonchalant with your phrasing. That’ll be those summers rubbing off on you again. 

This is the part of you you don’t like. The part that doesn’t care if someone lives or dies if you have no attachment to them, even if they’re innocent or not. When it comes down to doing a job, you switch off, but switching back on has always been a difficulty for you.

“Don’t you find it hard to live without remorse?”

“I don’t live without it, I just… find myself ignoring it often. I feel everything everyone else does, I just pick and choose when I feel what.” You pull your knees to your chest, watching him. “Why come back?”

“Couldn’t find him. Could find you.”

You nod. “But Illumi helped?”

“Got closer than I would have without him. So thank you, for that and for paying my price for me.” You wave his gratitude off. You hadn’t helped him expecting anything in return, so even his thanks feel strange to you.

You watch two children having a contest in the water to see which one of them can skip a rock further, laughing in joy each time they make that distance a little greater. A picture of childhood innocence unfolds in front of you and yet you cannot remember your own.

A stray cat wanders up to you, tangling itself in your legs, and you scratch the back of its ears, soft purrs vibrating in your hand. You break off a piece of bread from your snack box, feeding it.

“We’re not all selfish in this world.” A shift in your mood has you picking the cat up and holding it up to his face. “Did you know your pouts look exactly the same?”

Proving your point, he pouts, unimpressed by your joke. You put the cat down, frowning.

“You’re no fun, you know?”

“I’m not looking to have fun. I have work to do,” he says, getting up. You grab onto his hand in an effort to stop him.

He looks surprised at your boldness, but doesn’t pull away. “Stay with me for a bit? I’ll buy you dinner.” He rolls his eyes.

“Fine.”

You pick up your things and pull him along the cobblestone paths, smiling like you’ve just discovered what happiness is. Truth is, he reminds you of your youth, of when you’d pull a stoic Zoldyck sibling into playing with you after training all day. It was a mystery to them how you always retained so much energy after torture sessions.

“Good grief, you’re going to pull my arm off like that.” You let him go.

“Fine, but don’t blame me if you can’t keep up.”

His frame may be good for tight spots and avoiding certain swings someone launches at him, but unless he has any muscles under that turtleneck of his, he’s never going to catch up to you, not without Nen at least. However, when you look behind you, you can’t see a thing.

“I thought we were having a race.” He’s smiling at you while you work through your mini heart attack, entertained by his own slyness. 

You like seeing him like this, as someone with an actual personality, not the brooding Hunter he tries to make himself out to be. He sees you smiling and his disappears almost immediately.

The two of you switch to a leisurely walk, silence drifting along with the wind. He’s brooding again, but you don’t want to make small talk with him. You want him to be the one to initiate the conversation, unlikely as it is.

“Thank you for coming back. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

It was obvious you were going to give in. As comfortable as the silence is with him, hearing his voice is so much nicer. It makes you feel like you’re sitting by a crackling fire, embers floating in the air around you. You’re safe when you hear that voice.

“I didn’t want to, but I felt I owed it to you.”

You grin. “Well, when you leave this time, I’m going to make you promise to come back and visit me.”

“Promises, oh promises. I hate making them,” he sighs. 

“Perfect. Then I’ll have you make one just for me.” He’s exasperated by your eagerness, which makes it that much more fun to push on his buttons. The man has not spent enough time around kids, has he?

“Sounds like torture.”

“Torture’s worse, I think. If I can remember correctly.” You shake the feeling off. “Sorry. I must be boring you. You can leave if you want.”

Those moon-lit gems look at you. “Stop apologising. If I wanted to leave I wouldn’t have agreed to let you buy me dinner now, would I? Besides, I’m not leaving you on the street alone again, so, where do you want to eat?”

_Anywhere with you._

“There’s a stall that sells some of the best homemade _takoyaki_ a few streets over. Not better than your own family’s recipe probably, but it’s still not a taste I’m ever going to forget,” you say, stomach rumbling at the very thought.

When you get there, you order two portions for each of you and jasmine teas, the two of you sitting down on the sidewalk when it’s all ready. You waste no time tucking in.

“Good?” you ask him, mouth full.

“Worth the trip here.”

He’s eating with care, watching you stuff your face like you haven’t eaten in years. Fact is you’ve always had a big appetite, and no man is going to ever make you watch how you eat just because they’re a man.

“So, apart from trying to find your friend, what did you do all these months?”

“Species tracking with my team,” he says, taking a sip of his jasmine tea. “They’ve recently become interested in insects, unlucky for me. Not a fan of them.”

You wouldn’t have pegged him for someone squeamish around bugs, or inconvenienced at the least. You yourself hate them but if need be, you can easily put up with them. You finish off your first portion of _takoyaki_ , thinking over what this new interest among his group means.

He’ll be leaving for a shorter while now that the actual tracking itself is done. Next comes research.

“Why did you drop out? You’re brighter than you give yourself credit for,” he comments, sharing his meal with a dog that’s come up to him. He seems in his natural element, just him and the dog on the street.

Forcing yourself out of your trance, you reply, “Oh, that. I needed to take the Hunter Exam. Passed with flying colours, too.”

You pass him your License from your bag, rather proud of it. You pocket it once he passes it back.

“Congratulations. It’s not an easy feat to accomplish. Do you know what you want to do with it?”

If he’s looking for some wholesome, positive answer, he’s not going to get one. Your reasoning behind taking the Exam is selfish, and you wish you could lie to him in this moment.

“Whatever an employer will want me to do with it. I have no ideas of my own in mind.”

“Are you ever going to think for yourself?”

You’re shocked. You haven’t seen too much of his personality yet, but this, where he accuses you of being incapable of using your head to think, this is where you see a side of him he’s been refraining from using with you because you’ve been so nice to him.

His finger places itself at the centre of your forehead. “There’s a brain in there, right? You should use it to make better decisions.”

You like this side of him. You want to see it more often, should you have the chance.

“Fine. If I have to.” You help him up, having finished with your food, and the two of you set off again, dusk falling around you. You’ll let him take you home before you ask if he needs a place to stay.

The breeze here is pleasant against your skin, Kite’s hair fluttering around in it. He looks beautiful at this moment, warm colours of the descending sun reflected on the side of his face. Oh, you’d pinch his cheeks if it didn’t mean having to lose your fingers in the process.

You open your mouth to say something, but you refrain. So long as the silence is comforting, why fill it?

The small cottage at the end of the street is all yours, having won rather splendidly during your time at Heaven’s Arena shortly after the Exam. Though not a place you’re keen on visiting again, it pulled you out of your rough spot, and it made you stronger than you could have ever imagined.

He pauses while you enter, but you stand firm. “Both you and the dog can come in. I’ve plenty of space.”

He looks down at his feet, startled to see it tailed him all the way home. You think the look of surprise makes him look lively, youthful. You pull him in before he can spend too long thinking about it, closing the door behind him.

“I’m not leaving you out there at night. Finish your tea and take a shower. I’ll make you a fresh cup before you go to bed.” You hate how doting you sound, but you have no proof this man actually takes care of himself when you’re apart, so you’re doing what you can.

Just as you put the kettle on, he walks up to you, taking a small parcel out of his pocket. You eye him curiously, wondering what this is all about. 

He unwraps the parcel without haste, your eyes never once leaving it. “Since you’re making me promise to come back, I figured I’d leave you with this. As long as it glows a light purple, you’ll know I’m still out there, waiting to be found.”

A small gem turned into a necklace looks back at you from the palm of his hand, a perfect reflection of one of his eyes. You take it with shaking fingers, stroking the detailing gently. The moon always did seem more purple than blue to you.

You push down any stray tears that think they have the right to escape you.

Your arms wrap around his body before he can stop you, crushing him with the sheer amount of power you put into the hug. Does he not know what sentimentality does to people, even if it’s people like you? 

You swallow your gasps for breath, clearing your throat. Your head finds a home in the crook of his neck, all of you wanting to hold onto all of him for as long as possible. He falls into the hug with you, arms around your body, his torso soft and soothing.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters down, one to go.


	3. Invisible String

_Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons_   
_One single thread of gold tied me to you_

**_Invisible String_** , Taylor Swift

* * *

“Kite!”

The hug that greets him is far tighter than the one he departed with, a small grunt leaving him the second you make contact.

“Good grief. If I’d known you were going to be like this I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Too bad,” you mumble into his shoulder. “You promised to.”

He lets you hold onto him for a little longer before slowly peeling you off him, embarrassed that all the people that just left your class have seen it happen. He’s supposed to be someone impassive and detached, but here you are, cuddling him like he’s some plush toy.

You stare at his face for a moment before you remember about the book in your bag that you’ve been carrying ever since you bought it. You rush to your desk, bringing it out and passing it to him.

“I figured you could use it. Chimera Ants are tricky creatures,” you say, handing it to him. He can look at the inscription later.

He smiles softly, before taking out a book from his bag too. “It seems you and I are more alike than I would have guessed.”

_Poison: The History of Potions, Powders and Murderous Practitioners_ stares back at you, gold lettering like a magnet. It’s a fairly recent book on the market, one incredibly hard to get your hands on, and eventually you had to give up chasing dead ends.

“It’s like you’re trying to get me to hug you again.” The look of utter fear on his face makes you chuckle. “Relax. I won’t subject you to something that is clearly torture for you.”

“Are you free tonight? It’s my turn to buy you dinner,” he says softly, regaining his composure. You smile at him, heart fluttering at the prospect spending of an entire evening with him, a suggestion he’s made himself this time.

You hook your bag over your shoulder. “I’d love to.”

After locking the classroom door you lead him out of the building, the smell of rain still lingering in the air from this week’s earlier storm. It had been a violent one, the old brick buildings of Sol barely withstanding it, and many of the poorer regions didn’t.

“You know, when I found out that someone was leading a masterclass in poisons for Hunter Exam applicants, I shouldn’t have been surprised it was you.”

“There you go again, calling me predictable. It’s like nothing ever surprises you,” you say, making a ‘tsk’ sound with your teeth. It’s irritating to be told that he can read you like an open book. He laughs quietly. 

“Nothing you do, at least.” Yep. You’re definitely irritated. “Don’t look so upset. It’s nice not having to think about someone’s next move all the time.”

Okay, maybe you can find it in your heart to forgive him when he phrases it like that, like you’re one of the few things he can rely on. Dinner better be worth everything he’s putting your emotions through.

He takes you somewhere just off the main square, opening the door for you and following you down dark steps that lead to a restaurant buzzing with patrons, lively conversations nearly matching the volume of the music.

“I figured something less quiet would be nice. Not my type of crowd, but it is yours,” he says, taking you to an empty booth. It’s nice, yes, but you like the quiet when you’re with him. Everything here seems almost too loud for an evening with him.

You slide your coat off as you sit down, atmosphere warming you already. “It’s wonderful here. Homey.”

The amount of people makes no difference to it. In fact, having them all here makes it like one big family gathering, everyone sharing stories and catching up on time missed. You wonder if he’ll be back by Christmastime so you can bring him here again.

“I hope you like _yakitori_ and sake. I made a reservation for them along with the table.” He’s trying hard, too hard, you see that, but the question is why. This is not the Kite you met in the alley all those months ago.

“I don’t care what I’m eating or drinking. So long as you’re my company.” You don’t need fancy restaurants and dinner reservations. Spending time with him, that’s all you look forward to every time he leaves. “What’s on your mind?”

Something is off. He’s being talkative, he’s trying to be like every other guy that’s ever hit on you, but he’s not being himself. You don’t want to push him, especially not when you see how hard he’s trying to avoid eye contact. Something’s been plaguing him for a while now, and no one has had the common sense to talk to him about it.

You hope you’ve proved yourself to be someone he can trust with his secrets, someone he doesn’t have to hide from.

“I lost a member of my team. I want to make sure I don’t, by some mysterious happenstance, lose you too.”

So that’ll be why he’s not acting like himself. Loss always changes our demeanour somewhere, even if we don’t realise it. You shuffle closer to him in the booth, taking that stupid cap off his head so he’ll look at you.

“Life comes at you hard, and more often than not, it comes back for another round, but I promise you — I am not going anywhere, and you better not be either,” you say, your tone serious and stern.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze, hoping it’ll reassure him somewhat. He’s not the crying type, but he is someone who keeps it all locked up, desperate to avoid any kind of confrontation.

You pull him up out of the booth, taking your coat in your free hand. This is not where he needs to be, this is not where you’re going to make him go through something like this.

“Where are you going?” he asks as you force him out onto the street.

“ _We_ are going home. I’ll make dinner and we’ll find a bottle of sake and we’ll sit in the silence that we always fill with each other’s presence. We don’t need fancy settings to just _be_.”

Soft as you are, you’re also firm. You’re going to pick up his broken pieces so he doesn’t cut himself by accident when he stumbles upon them again. Still holding his hand, you settle into his side, listening to his breathing.

The cobblestones under your feet are a little slippery, a small drizzle having taken place while you were inside. If he asks, you’ll use that as an excuse.

“I’ll come back within the year. As soon as I know enough to send my team on their own, I’ll come back.”

His words hit you hard. Not because of the weight they hold, no. Because, even without using your Nen, you know he’s lying.

His eyes are dangerous as he stares at you. “Don’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I haven’t broken any yet, have I?”

You say nothing during the time it takes you to reach the cottage, opening the door to have Plum and Violet jump at your feet, greeting them as enthusiastically as they always have. The cat and dog haven’t left your side since the time Kite visited you at the riverbank.

Plum bounds up to him, clearly remembering the man who shared his _takoyaki_ with him very fondly. You really hope you have something in your fridge to feed everyone in your household tonight. 

You breathe a sigh of relief when you see you have all the necessary ingredients to make him some ramen, even if it won’t be the same quality as if you were eating out. You take off your outer layers, v-necked t-shirt leaving the necklace he gave you out in the open. You haven’t had the guts to take it off since he gave it to you.

You start with boiling the water and cooking the meat before you move onto the vegetables. Before you can start slicing them, his hand comes to rest on yours where you grip the knife.

“Let me.” You move aside, opting to search your cupboards for the bottle of sake you know you have. You place it on the table and then go back to the drive for two eggs, letting them cook. Hopefully you get the timing right this time.

The two of you cook wordlessly, moving around in perfect harmony like you’ve lived together for years on end. Once everything is ready, all that’s left to do is get two glasses to drink from. You fiddle with the gold link around your neck as Kite takes them out of the cupboard, taking one from his hand when he turns around.

“It’s okay to mourn, you know?”

“I don’t have time to mourn.” You’d heard that excuse before, many times from your own lips.

“So tell me about them, then. Tell me all about them.”

And as soon as you’re both settled, he does. He tells you stories ranging back years, switching from smiles and laughter to solemnity in the blink of an eye, but he goes on rambling. It’s good to see him like this, his laugh like the music of songbirds, your ears ringing with joy.

You stay like that for most of the night, stretched out on the sofa, exchanging anecdotes, your legs swung over his. You’d keep him talking for a week if you could, but it’d be selfish of you to keep him here. He has a family to visit, a team to work with. He has no time for part-time assassins with a special interest in poisons.

The rain outside stops, sun filtering in through the half-drawn curtains.

You wake up to find yourself resting against his torso, his arm around your waist, the two of you having fallen asleep after enough sake and, later, chamomile tea. His cap is swung low, covering his eyes, but you know those lilac pupils are still there, matching the colour of your necklace.

You finger it, thinking about just how much of a promise he made with it when he gave it to you. _Softie_.

“Are you really not going to get off me?” he mumbles, catching your eye. The question might be perceived as rude, but you can tell by his tone and the smirk playing on his lips that it’s anything but.

Reluctantly, you ease your body from his. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You already know he’s not staying any longer than he has to. Plum and Violet aren’t too happy about letting him go either, but they stay by your feet when you open the front door to let him leave you.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Teary-eyed, you place a kiss on his cheek, and say quietly, “I know.”

And as you watch him walk away, hair moving softly in the wind, you bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying. You wonder how, despite the limits of your Nen that you put in place, you were able to lie so easily to him just now.

* * *

That was around two months ago. Since then, you threw yourself into work, you took any kind of distraction you were offered, moral or not. You’ve tried not to think about the invisible string that pulls you two together, but now, it tugs sharply, breaking.

Life comes at you hard, and more often than not, it comes back for another round. You drop to the ground, knees crashing into hard wood, and you know. You can feel it from here.

He’s gone.

You pull the necklace you’ve been wearing all these months, watching the last of the light drain away. He’d promised you he’d be back within the year. He’d promised that as soon as he knew something more, he’d come back, even for a short while.

_“Promises, oh promises. I hate making them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's. yes i am sorry but also i am not because. nevermind i am crying please forgive me.

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
